Expecting the Unexpected
by AGirlWithTheBrokenSmile
Summary: Maria Cavlin dislikes many things. She dislikes spiders. She dislikes going underground. She dislikes Quidditch. But most of all, Maria dislikes James Potter. No, that's all wrong. She hates James Potter. Did I mention that she's a muggle-born redhead? Talk about a repeat of history...Companion to Never Have I Ever, James Sirius/OC.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey! I know this idea is a **_**bit **_**cliché, but I really couldn't help it. This story is a companion story to "Never Have I Ever," but you do NOT have to read that one to read this one. This story simply explains a character that will come in "Never Have I Ever," in a few chapters. I really hope you enjoy it!**

**Prologue **

I never wanted to be a redhead, you know.

I know, there was _tons _of people who would absolutely love to have red hair-mostly so they can say they have no soul, which, by the way, is extremely untrue. I can assure you that I do, indeed, have a soul. Otherwise, those dodgy dementors wouldn't have an effect on me, now would they? Not that I've ever encountered one, of course…

Sorry. I got a bit sidetracked there, didn't I? Back to the redhead thing.

Like I said, there are loads of people who would love to be a redhead, for various, odd reasons.

But if you go to Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, are in your seventh year, and are not related to the Potter/Weasley clan in any shape or form, you do _not _want to be a redhead. Trust me. If you are, for the sake of yourself and your family, die your hair.

Why, you ask? The answer is plain and simple: James Sirius Potter. Because we all know that the Potter boys go for redheads.


	2. Chapter 2

**Aw, thank you so much for your reviews! I'm surprised that I got any reviews at all, given the fact that it was a short, tiny prologue. **

**WARNING: This story **_**may **_**turn out to be a lot like Lily and James', but I will try my hardest to make it different. If you have any tips or ideas that you think would make this story unique, feel free to say so in a review or PM me. Just don't give me the whole plot line; I'll figure that one out by myself. **

* * *

_Chapter 1. _

_You've Got to be Joking!_

To be honest, I've never been very..._talented _at Charms.

I really don't know what holds me back; my wand works properly, I study consistently, and I practice all the time. Yet, despite all of my efforts, I'm complete rubbish at the subject.

Of course, I've seen much, much worse; take Alice Longbottom, for example. Yes, she's a year younger than me, but _come on_. Surely levitating isn't that hard? Even _I _can do that, and that, my friend, is truly, _truly _saying something.

The point is, even though I pretty much blow at Charms, there are students at Hogwarts who are much, much worse at the terrifying school subject; students that get a T in their exams every single year, no matter _how _much they study or practice.

So, when Professor Emcall told me that I needed a tutor, it's easy to say that I was ticked. Very, _very _ticked.

I took a step back from where I stood, crossed my arms and asked, my voice incredulous, "_What_? Why on earth do I need a tutor?"

Professor Emcall sighed, removed his glasses, polished them with the hem of his robe and stuck them back onto his wrinkled face. "I just told you, Ms. Cavlin. You're failing Charms, and if you don't get a tutor-"

"What about the _other _students that are failing Charms, Professor?" I asked, confusion creeping its way into my angered tone. "Why don't _they _need tutors? They're just as bad as I am! Some of them are even _worse_."

The elderly Charms professor just sighed and stated simply, "That's not any of your business, Ms. Cavlin." He shot me a stern look. "What _is _your business, however, is the fact you need a tutor, or you'll fail Charms and have to repeat your seventh year."

I about choked on my own spit, which is, by the way, a task that's quite difficult to accomplish. "Th-that's-b-but I can't-" I sputtered. "Th-that's not fair!"

Professor Emcall crossed his arms and sat down at his desk, opening a drawer and taking out a fairly large pile of papers. "It's quite fair, Ms. Cavlin." He took out a tissue and blew his nose, and I wrinkled my own in disgust. "Now, you are to be tutored every Thursday, at 6 o'clock, after all your lessons have been finished with that day. You are going to be tutored by Mr. Potter-"

My heart about stopped, and I felt by body go numb with pure dread. "Umm...which one?" I asked quietly, my voice barely audible.

Professor Emcall looked up from his paper and stared at me in confusion. "Pardon me?" He asked.

I sighed and shifted from foot to foot. "Which Potter, Professor? There's two of them, you see, Albus and Pot-James." I cleared my throat and shouldered my bag.

"Oh," Professor Emcall said quietly. He peered down at his list once more, and my breath caught in my throat, and I squeezed my eyes shut, mentally begging:

_Please be Albus, please be Albus, please be Albus..._

"Ah, Mr. _James _Potter. He's a fellow Gryffindor, I believe, and he's really quite..."

But I wasn't listening. In fact, I had stopped listening after I heard the name, "James Potter." My eyes snapped open, and I immediately shot towards the desk and gripped it, leaning towards the Professor with a wild look in my eyes. Emcall's head shot up, and he stared at me, looking confused once again. "Ms. Cavlin, are you quite alri-"

I shook my head and begged, my voice barely above a whisper, "_Please, _Professor, have somebody else tutor me. _Anybody but Potter_. I _beg _you."

Professor Emcall shook his head, and still looking a tad bit wary, replied, "Sorry, Ms. Cavlin, but Mr. Potter is the only one _willing _to tutor you. The other students I asked turned down the position due to busy schedules."

I almost snorted; if anything, _Potter _should be the one with the busy schedule. He was Quidditch captain, for Godric's sake! He should be busy with training and flying and doing whatever Quidditch captains do; he shouldn't have time for this!

Then again, Potter always jumped at the chance to spend time with me; or, in better words, _annoy the living _life _out of me, _with his constant attempts to ask me out and whatnot. Really, he just didn't know when to give up. Honestly, the boy as ambitious as a Slytherin; of course, he'd deny that in a millisecond and probably beat me to a bloody pulp for even suggesting it, not matter how far his infatuation went.

But I wasn't going to give up without a fight. "_Please,_" I continued to beg, my voice getting higher and higher, almost hitting the point of hysteria. "You don't understand. I _can't _have _Potter _tutor me." I spat out his name in disgust. "Have Albus tutor me, he's just as good in Charms as Potter is!" I didn't even bother calling Potter by his first name; what was the point, as I had already slipped up numerous times? And, of course, I really had no idea if Albus was as good as Potter in Charms-heck, I didn't even know that Potter himself was good at Charms! Who could blame me, considering I spent most of my Hogwarts education avoiding him? When would I have the time to pay attention to his magical strengths and weaknesses?

Professor Emcall raised an eyebrow, throwing his used tissue in his wooden rubbish bin. "Albus has gotten no higher than a P in every single Charms exam he has taken throughout his education at Hogwarts. I don't think that he would be a very good substitute for James, who has, for your information, gotten an O in every single Charms exam he's taken." Suddenly, he looked up, into space, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Well, except for his fourth year." He mused. "I don't think that really counts, however, given the events that took place that year." The white-haired professor shook his head sadly. "That poor boy. It must be terrible to loose such a beloved cat..." I rolled my eyes; practically everyone in school knew about the "great passing" of the Potter family cat, Sirius. Potter had, apparently, always been rather fond of the fur-ball; most likely because it shared one of his names. I inwardly snorted at the thought. _Conceited, arrogant git…_

Professor Emcall sighed quietly and continued, "Neverless, he still did quite well that year. Got an E, he did. He never disappoints, that boy!" He chuckled, and his eyes strayed to the clock on the stone wall. He suddenly gasped, and jumped out of his seat, his eyes wild in surprise. "Merlin-look at the time!" He exclaimed, shuffling up his papers and shoving them back inside his desk. "I have a meeting with the headmistress. I don't want to be late for that."

He shot me a tense look and stated, "I expect to see you in the library at 6 o'clock next Thursday, Ms. Cavlin. Don't be late." Then, he closed the opened desk drawer and swiftly exited the room, leaving me to, as horribly cliché as it may sound, drown in my misery.

...

As soon as I collapsed into my favorite chair next to the fireplace in the Gryffindor Common Room, my best friend, Lucy Weasley, came scurrying up to me, a look of curiosity coating her face. She settled herself on the arm of the chair, much to my annoyance, (I can be quite claustrophobic at times) and was followed by my other best friend, Carrie Hart, who, one again, much to my utter dismay, sat down on the _other _arm of the chair, also looking quite intrigued.

"What did Emcall want with you?" Lucy asked in her soft voice, tilting her head slightly to the right. "He seemed a bit...annoyed, if you ask me." Carrie nodded in agreement.

I scoffed. "He was probably annoyed at my constant failure in Charms class," I answered, scowling as I recalled our conversation.

Carrie raised an eyebrow, a skill that she held with quite a bit of pride, considering the amount of time it took for her to learn it. "What do you mean?"

I rolled my eyes and let my head fall onto the back of the red chair. "Like you don't know. You _know _I'm rubbish at Charms."

Carrie nodded and responded, "Well, yeah. I just don't get what it has to do with..." She trailed off, and her eyes widened, as if she was having some sort of miraculous, yet silent epiphany. She gasped and asked, her voice a deadly whisper, "He's not going to put you in after-school study, is he?"

I sighed, wincing as I did. "Worse. Much, _much _worse."

Lucy looked surprised. "What on earth could be worse than an after-school study session with Emcall? We've all heard how those go..." She trailed off, wincing and squeezing her eyes shut.

I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath. "It's so much worse, Lucy. You don't understand how _horrible_ it is."

Carrie sighed exasperatingly. "Come _one_!" She exclaimed, impatience evident in her tone. "Tell us already! Don't keep us in suspense for too long."

I took a deep breath, and rushed out, speaking as fast as humanly possible, "Emcallismakingpottertutorme."

There was a very long silence, which was finally broken when Carrie asked bluntly, confusion clouding her voice, "...what?"

I sighed and buried my face in my hands. "Please don't make me say it again," I begged, keeping my eyes squeezed shut.

"I'm sorry," Lucy began slowly, "but I honestly didn't catch that."

I looked up to see Carrie shaking her head, looking incredibly lost. "Me neither. Could you possibly say it...I don't know, a little slower?"

I felt like banging my head against a wall. But, reluctantly, I spat out, "Emcall is making _Potter _tutor me."

There was a silence much longer than the first, in which I didn't even dare look up to see Carrie and Lucy's facial reactions.

The silence was finally shattered when Carrie asked, "Albus, right?" Her expression turned to one of extreme worry. "Oh, no, _please _tell me it's Albus!"

I shook my head, and Carrie smacked for forehead, and at the same time, Lucy groaned loudly, looking annoyed as well as worried. "Great. _Just _when I thought he was beginning to leave you alone-"

"-he just _shoves _his way back into your life." Carrie finished, shaking her head sadly. "That boy drives me up a wall."

I let out a short, humorless laugh. "He drives _you_ up a wall?" I asked, incredulous. "At least he doesn't _constantly _hit on you, flirt with you-"

"Aren't they the same thing?

"-and ask you out twenty-five times a day." I finished, ignoring Lucy's interruption. I scowled. "He is _such _a prat! He's possibly _the most arrogant _person I've _ever _met in my entire life. Honestly, he seems to think he's the oh-so-holy messiah! He thinks he can win over _every _girl in the school, and that every girl will just melt into a pile of putty whenever he messes up his hair." I scowled and slammed by head into the back of the chair, ignoring the spasm of pain that shot through my brain as I did so. "You know, that's the only reason he's always chasing after me and asking me out. He just wants to prove that he can get _any _girl he wants, no matter how long it takes." I shook my head. "But there is _no _way I'm _ever _going to date that _git, _no matter what he thinks. No. Possible. _Way._"

There was yet another moment of silence after I had finished my rant. I was breathing heavily, Lucy had an amused expression on her face (much to my annoyance) and Carrie just looked...well, she looked like Carrie.

After a few more seconds, said girl stated, "As much as I hate to admit it, though, he _is _pretty good-looking..."

My head snapped up, and I glared at her. "What does that have to do with anything?" I ignored Lucy's "you-didn't-deny-that-he's-good-looking" look that was shot my way.

Carrie shrugged. "I'm just _saying_, that maybe you should-"

"-give him a chance?" I interrupted. "Just because he's _good-looking_?" I snorted and glared at the blazing fire in front of me. "I didn't think you were that low, Carrie."

Just as Carrie was about to retort, Lucy piped in hastily, "I don't think she meant it like that, Maria."

I scowled. "Then what did she mean by it?" I asked.

When I was greeted with silence, I huffed and crossed my arms.

_Just what I thought. _

* * *

**Hey; did you like it? Sorry I couldn't get it up straight away, I was camping for the whole weekend. **

**I'm sorry there wasn't any James in this chapter; but I'll make it up in the next chapter. **

**I would love at least four reviews before the next chapter; that's not asking for too much, is it?**

**:)**

**-Lily**


	3. Chapter 3

**Holy crap! I didn't expect such a big response for this story. Thank you so much! All of the reviews really mean a lot. **

**And also, while this chapter may seem a bit unrelated to the first, it is. You see, there are kind of two big situations going on in this story: one with Louis (who I have recently fallen in love with) and one with James. This chapter kind of explains the "Louis" situation, while the first explained the "James" situation. Oh, and I'm sorry for the lack of "James" in this chapter. I know I promised to make it up, but things changed, so, sorry!**

**Enjoy the chapter!**

_Chapter 2._

_Amy, are You Bloody Insane?_

There are many, countless times in this unfair, too-long life of mine when I have the nagging urge to slam my head up against a wall. Repeatedly. Over and over and _over_.

This is one of the moments.

"…and then he said, 'It's not you, it's me.' I mean, can you believe that? Honestly, how much for cliché can you get?" Amelia Prior, recently-dumped carrot-top, paused to loudly blow her nose on an over-used tissue and wipe some of the now-drying tears off of her soaked face with her palms. Doing so, however, did no good, because a moment later, she burst into tears once more.

"It's just not fair!" She wailed, curling up into a tight ball on the surface of the red leather couch, her arms wrapped around her knees.

I bit back a deep sigh and let my head rest against the back of the couch that Amy and I were currently sitting on. How we had gotten there-I wasn't quite sure. Amy continued to sob uncontrollably, rocking back and forth as I soothed, "Oh, come off it, Amy. He's just a git you doesn't deserve you, alright? He's not worth it."

Unfortunately, my words of "comfort" didn't have the desired affect. At all. Amy simply cried even _harder_-if such a thing was even possible at this point in the conversation-and didn't even make the smallest attempt to wipe away her freely-flowing tears.

"He-he's not a git…is he?" She didn't even wait for an answer; instead, she tilted her head up towards the ceiling and squeezed her baby-blue eyes shut despairingly.

This time, I didn't bother holding back a sigh. There was absolutely _no way _to comfort Amelia Prior-she was a living, breathing, emotional time-bomb, just waiting to explode. She refused to listen to any words or advice and/or sympathy, and begged us to leave her be, so she could (and I quote) "drown in my own pathetic misery and clinging sorrow."

Yeah, and they call _Victoire _a drama queen.

As if reading my current thoughts, Amy's head snapped down from its dramatic position, and she spat venomously, "He probably dumped me for _Victoire_." She scowled, and continued to mutter under her breath, "Perfect, gorgeous, _amazing _Victoire Weasley…"

I sighed once more and resisted the rather strong urge to face-palm. "Amy," I began calmly, "Victoire is Louis's sister. The would be kind of, oh, I don't know, _illegal_, perhaps? Besides, Victoire is twenty-one years-old, last time I checked."

Amy blinked. "Oh. Right…" She trailed off and stared at the red and gold wall for a very long time, during which I attempted to have a small degree of patience in the seemingly lost-in-thought redhead.

I had been pretty surprised when she'd came barging into the Common Room in absolute hysterics, demanding to see me at once. At that moment, I'd wished for nothing more than the ability to fade into nothing. The room had cleared, everyone looking indifferent-even the first years fled at first sight of a crying Amy. By now, everyone was pretty much used to Amy's frequently-occurring episodes, though she sometimes managed to squeeze her way into the nightmares of the Gryffindor newbies. After all, no one, and I mean _no one_ (yes, that most certainly includes me) liked to witness an infamous Amelia Prior emotional breakdown.

The reason I was so surprised that she'd wanted to talk to me: Amy and I had never been what one may call, "Best Buddies." In fact, at times, it seemed as if she didn't like me in the least. Yet, against all odds, there we were, discussing her recently-destroyed "love life," however one-sided the conversation might be.

Back to the present.

Suddenly, Amy shot up, her eyes bright. I winced inwardly; I could practically _see _the light bulb above her head, flashing like a muggle police car light during a "code red" emergency.

Looking excited, she leaned forward and whispered, "You could go talk to him, Maria!"

I blinked.

Her enthusiasm not fading in the slightest at my very vague reaction, she continued, "You can ask him why he broke up with me, and I won't have to do a single thing!"

She smiled happily at this "brilliant" epiphany, while I just stared at her in disbelief at her rather blunt words. "And then," she went on, her face brightening at every word she spoke, "he'll be reminded of me, and then he'll realize just how much he misses me. Then, he'll beg on his knees, trying to get me back."

I thought I sensed a bit of backwards physiology at work, so I asked, quite confused, "I thought you said that you were never going to take him back, even if he came crawling on his hands and feet." I thought back to the vow she spoke earlier in the conversation.

Amy smirked, her tears now all gone at this point. "Well, of _course_ I'm not going to take him back, Maria. That's just the fun of it." Her smirk widened. "Can't you see?" Seeing my blank look, she explained, "He'll beg and beg and _beg_, and I'll never take him back. It's what civilization tends to call "Karma."

I raised an eyebrow. "I know what Karma means, Amy. And last time I checked, it was the universe at work, not _people_."

Amy just rolled her eyes and waved a hand dismissively. "Universe-Loony-verse," she giggled at her own joke, "it doesn't matter which way Karma is achieved, Maria. It just _is_, and that's all that counts."

I expected her to tack on an "obviously" there at the end, but to my surprise, she didn't. Instead, she simply asked, "So, can you do it?"

I shifted uncomfortably and shrugged. "Amy, I don't know. It's a rude thing to ask, you know, why he broke up with you…"

Amy laughed humorlessly. "You think I care about being rude?"

I rolled my eyes. "Well," I replied, "you might not, but I do."

Amy laughed once more-this time in a teasing sort of way. She shot back, "You don't seem to care about being rude when you're with James Potter."

True. Very, very true. I had to admit, though Amy wasn't the sharpest Crayon in the box, she knew where to hit you so you never had a good-enough comeback.

I gave in. "Fine, I'll talk to him." Just as Amy opened her mouth to speak, I added on hastily, "but that's it. I'll ask him, and if he doesn't want to answer, I won't ask again. That'll be the end of it. If you want to know that bad, you can ask him yourself."

For a second, Amy looked as if she wanted to argue, but then she sighed in defeat. "Fine." She stuck out her hand. "Do we have a deal?"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as I shook her hand. "Yeah, we've got a deal."

If only I knew about the mess that handshake would bring…

**Review, perhaps?**

**-Lily**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey! I have to admit, I was pretty disappointed at the lack of reviews for the last chapter. I guess it kind of makes sense, since it was short and James-less, but I still would've liked more than one review. **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

_Chapter 3._

_Uhh...What?_

On that long-dreaded Thursday evening, I was ready to jump to my last resort-well, more like my _only _resort-which was suicide. Suicide by _what_, I didn't really care. As long as it got me out of spending time with _him_.

Ugh. I couldn't even say his _name_-not even his last one-without wanting to jump of a cliff, given my fate.

As I walked to the library, I could feel myself begin to hyperventalate. I tried to calm myself down, and swallow my anger. Who knows? Maybe he would magically (it is Hogwarts, after all) became mature, civilized, and ugly as a banshee.

No. Not possible. Potter, being mature and civilized? Yeah. _Right_. That'll happen when _Heaven _freezes over, and I think we all know how hard it is for that to happen.

I stopped once I reached the library entrance. Taking a rather exaggerated deep breath, I quietly told myself, "Alright, Maria, you can do this." I closed my eyes and concentrated hard. "You'll survive. You'll survive. You'll survive."

I continued to repeat that to myself multiple times before, after opening my eyes, I entered the library.

Quietly, keeping my steps as soft as possible, I made my way through the library aisles, praying that Potter would forget to show up, or maybe he was dead, (ha-that would solve _all _my problems) or that maybe it was a mistake, and Al was tutoring me, instead.

Yeah. Not a _chance_.

When I finally reached the end of the library, my fleeting hope that something terribly (well, maybe not so terribly, for me) tragic had happened to Potter, causing him to miss our tutoring session, inflated like air being let out of a balloon.

There he was, sitting at the last table in the library, a few books spread out before him. I noticed that he looked pretty nervous-his eyebrows were furrowed, his hands were rubbing together, and he had a sort of frown on his face. Before I could determine whether or not he actually _was _nervous, however, his head snapped up and his eyes met mine.

For a moment, that horribly-familiar cocky smile of his spread across his face-but then, to my surprise, it vanished. In its place, was a sort of cross between a smile and a not-smile. You know what I mean-a smile that's not a smile or a frown, but just a sort of straight line? You know?

Alright, back to the present.

He coughed a little, closed his eyes, seemed to actually _whisper _something to himself, opened his eyes again, and said, "Hey, Maria."

_Umm...what_?

The shock at his very vague, not-arrogant (quick, everybody run before things start blowing up due to paranormal reactions!) must have clouded my mind, and rendered the inability to reply properly, because, after blinking in surprise for about twenty hours, I said, my voice scratchy with confusion, "Hi."

Huh. You expected something bigger, right? Well, you expected wrong, my friend. I just stood there like a total blockhead, and said, "Hi." _Hi_. Could I be any more thick? I thought for sure that this would trigger a very normal, haughty, screw-everybody-in-the-school-and-life-I-kick-their-butts response, but to my utter _shock_, (if I have to use that word again, I may _actually _kill myself) he just gave another one of those awkward little coughs, gestured to the seat beside him, and asked, "Do you-I mean, uh, want to get started?"

For a very long moment, I didn't answer. Then, I replied quietly, "I guess." Pushing my hair back behind my ear, I swiftly took a seat beside him.

Well, maybe not so swiftly. I actually managed to knock over a book _and _trip over a chair.

Now, if there's one thing you should know, it's this: I'm not naturally clumsy. Sure, I've never been dancer-coordinated, but I'm not constantly tripping over strings and flat surfaces, either. So, knocking over books wasn't a new thing for me. But tripping over chairs...well, _that _was a bit odd.

I forced back an embarrassed flush as I cleared my throat, turned to Potter, and asked, "So, what do you want to start on?"

Potter was, oddly enough, silent for a moment. Then, he replied, "Well, you know all of the basics, right? Levitating charms and summoning charms?" I nodded, but then felt my face heat up.

Wait. Pause, and _rewind_. Was I actually _blushing _in the presence of James Potter?

No. No, no, _no_. That was most certainly not acceptable. So, instead of bending over awkwardly and muttering my delima in a barely audible voice, I stated simply, "Well, actually, I haven't quite mastered the summoning charm, yet."

I expected him to laugh. He didn't.

What. The. Bloody. _Mary_.

Potter nodded in an understanding (_understanding?_) way and stated, "Well, I'll guess we'll start with that, then."

"Yeah. I guess."

Potter then proceeded to clear off the table. "Alright, take out your wand." I obeyed. "Now, you know the incantation, right?" I nodded firmly. Honestly, how thick did he think I was? "Okay, then. Give it a try."

I raised an eyebrow. "With what?"

Potter seemed to think for a second, before getting up, setting a _quill _at the end of the table, and sittting back down. I stared at him in utter disbelief.

He looked confused. "What?"

I rolled my eyes. "A quill? Honestly, Potter, how talentless do you think I am?"

He scoffed. "I didn't say that."

I rolled my eyes yet again. I crossed my arms and replied, "Well, you kind of _indicated _it, by using a bloody _quill_."

He sighed heavily. "I swear, Maria, you always try to start an argument. Could you at least _try _not to, for five minutes?"

My face went blood red, and I could see Potter's irritated expression turn a little bit worried. "Oh, _I _start the arguments? _That's _rich. Last time I checked, Potter, you take every chance you get to provoke me!"

Potter scowled. "You see what I mean, Cavlin?" Finally, a correct name addressing. "No matter _what _I say, you just keep on going."

I felt anger rise up in my chest, and I stood up, glaring daggers at the seventh year in front of me. "Well, it's _your _fault. You just keep asking for it?"

"Actually, Cavlin, it was you who started this one."

I shook my head at him, anger clouding my head. I grabbed my bag off of the chair furiously, and spat out, "That's _it_. I'm done. You tell Emcall that I'd rather fail that be tutored by you."

I shot him one last glare before storming out of the library.

* * *

_Ow!_

I felt myself fall to the ground, and winced when my elbow slammed up against the stone ground. I looked up to see who I had run into, and was surprised to see that it was Louis Weasley. Also known as Amy's ex-boyfriend, Potter's best mate, and then person I had been avoiding for days.

His expression was worried as he held out a hand to me. Muttering a quick "thanks," I stood up quickly with his help.

"Sorry," he muttered, looking embarrassed.

I felt my face turn bright red. "Oh, it was my fault. I should really watch where I'm going." I gave a nervous laugh and shouldered my bag. "Thanks for helping me up."

He shrugged, smiling a little. "No problem."

I couldn't help but smile back; his was infectious. As he turned to walk away, I realized that now was probably the only chance I would have to talk to him privately, considering he was always with Potter or surrounded by dozens of swooning girls. Amy had been one of the lucky ones.

"Hey, Louis, can I talk to you?"

Looking surprised, he turned back around. "Yeah?" He asked, smiling once more.

I blushed awkwardly, realizing how incredibly weird what I was going to say next was. "Umm, Louis, you remember Amy, right?"

He nodded. "Yeah, she's my girlfriend. Well, she was."

I coughed a little. "Yeah, about that...she's a little upset."

His expression turned a little scared, and I could've sworn I heard him mutter under his breath, "Oh, crap..."

I sighed and said, "Listen, what I'm about to ask is really rude, but mind you, she asked me to...er, ask this." Louis nodded, looking wary. "She kind of wants to know why you broke up with her."

Silence. Then, "Well, I guess she wasn't really my type."

Huh. _That _was easy.

I smiled, feeling relieved. "Thanks, Louis. See you around?"

He smiled back. "Yeah. I'll see you around."

**Alright, here's the deal: at least three reviews, and you get a chapter. Think I'm kidding? I kid you not. **

**I hope you liked it!**

**:)**

**-Lily**


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